specially adapted weapon of his own design. It was probably the most sophisticated peashooter in the world, complete with a target sight and cross-hairs.
Mitchell moved back to the window. He pulled up the glass just a crack and knelt on the floor. From his pocket he produced a handful of tiny pebbles. Afterwards, there would be no bullet on the scene to arouse suspicion. The pebbles would disappear among the everyday debris of the street. It wouldn’t even be a pebble that killed Jimmy Coates.
There was no question of sympathy as Mitchell loaded a stone into his shooter. Far from it. As far as Mitchell was concerned, Jimmy deserved his punishment. So you’re 38 per cent human too, Mitchell thought.
“Well, you’ve had it easy,” he muttered, watching Jimmy leaning back in his chair, comfortable, smiling. “You’re not like me.”
Gently, he raised the bamboo and whispered, “Show time.”
“Deux citrons pressés, s’il vous plâit,” announced Jimmy to the waiter, his French accent perfect.
“Oh, order one for me too,” whispered Felix, licking his lips.
Jimmy raised his eyes to the sky, “Don’t worry, you’ll get one,” he sighed.
“Oh, you think he knows what I want already?” Felix muttered, watching the waiter walk away.
Against his better judgement, Jimmy found himself laughing. “By the way,” he added, “I think you should put sugar in it this time.”
“No way,” Felix replied. “I like the lemon flavour.”
Jimmy had forgotten how much fun it was when Felix was just being Felix. What’s more, it felt fantastic to be outdoors. Jimmy’s mother hadn’t been able to justify keeping everyone in the house much longer. In any case, Yannick’s mother was being driven mad by having kids around. If they hadn’t been allowed out, she would probably have thrown them out.
In the four days since Viggo and Saffron left for London, there hadn’t been any news from them. Jimmy realised it would take time to gather enough intelligence to raid the Embassy without being discovered, but the waiting was still excruciating. Meanwhile, he and Felix had been taking advantage of being allowed out and not having to go to school.
Now they had a chance to enjoy spring in France. It wasn’t all that hot, but there was enough sunshinefor the crêperie to have umbrellas up over the outside tables. Except for the logo of some French beer company, they could have been giant blue lily pads. Jimmy and Felix made themselves comfortable in the shade. Jimmy was almost ready to forget his troubles.
But something wasn’t quite right.
“What’s the matter?” Felix asked, noting the concern on Jimmy’s face.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“What’s nothing?”
Jimmy shrugged, but still he couldn’t relax. “It’s my…you know…” he dropped his voice, “…programming. It won’t go away.”
Felix leaned forward. “I thought it would always be there. You have to get used to it. Otherwise you could let it ruin a perfectly beautiful—”
PING!
The noise cut off the end of Felix’s sentence. At that moment, the umbrella that sat in the centre of their table wheeled off its pole.
Felix let out a laugh, half from amusement and half from shock. Jimmy found nothing to be amused about. The umbrella crashed down in front of him. It passed a centimetre from his face. He rocked back in his chair, startled. The spokes of the umbrella dug into the table like darts on a dartboard. The ends were unusually sharp. The umbrella came to rest on its side, thematerial sticking up from the table between Jimmy and Felix.
Jimmy leaned forward to regain his balance, but he couldn’t. The back leg of his chair snapped clean off and he clattered on to his back. Then—
PING!
The umbrella from the next table careered downwards. Jimmy watched as its points glinted in the sun. They were heading straight for his face. At the last instant, he rolled out of the way. The spokes of the
Mitchell moved back to the window. He pulled up the glass just a crack and knelt on the floor. From his pocket he produced a handful of tiny pebbles. Afterwards, there would be no bullet on the scene to arouse suspicion. The pebbles would disappear among the everyday debris of the street. It wouldn’t even be a pebble that killed Jimmy Coates.
There was no question of sympathy as Mitchell loaded a stone into his shooter. Far from it. As far as Mitchell was concerned, Jimmy deserved his punishment. So you’re 38 per cent human too, Mitchell thought.
“Well, you’ve had it easy,” he muttered, watching Jimmy leaning back in his chair, comfortable, smiling. “You’re not like me.”
Gently, he raised the bamboo and whispered, “Show time.”
“Deux citrons pressés, s’il vous plâit,” announced Jimmy to the waiter, his French accent perfect.
“Oh, order one for me too,” whispered Felix, licking his lips.
Jimmy raised his eyes to the sky, “Don’t worry, you’ll get one,” he sighed.
“Oh, you think he knows what I want already?” Felix muttered, watching the waiter walk away.
Against his better judgement, Jimmy found himself laughing. “By the way,” he added, “I think you should put sugar in it this time.”
“No way,” Felix replied. “I like the lemon flavour.”
Jimmy had forgotten how much fun it was when Felix was just being Felix. What’s more, it felt fantastic to be outdoors. Jimmy’s mother hadn’t been able to justify keeping everyone in the house much longer. In any case, Yannick’s mother was being driven mad by having kids around. If they hadn’t been allowed out, she would probably have thrown them out.
In the four days since Viggo and Saffron left for London, there hadn’t been any news from them. Jimmy realised it would take time to gather enough intelligence to raid the Embassy without being discovered, but the waiting was still excruciating. Meanwhile, he and Felix had been taking advantage of being allowed out and not having to go to school.
Now they had a chance to enjoy spring in France. It wasn’t all that hot, but there was enough sunshinefor the crêperie to have umbrellas up over the outside tables. Except for the logo of some French beer company, they could have been giant blue lily pads. Jimmy and Felix made themselves comfortable in the shade. Jimmy was almost ready to forget his troubles.
But something wasn’t quite right.
“What’s the matter?” Felix asked, noting the concern on Jimmy’s face.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“What’s nothing?”
Jimmy shrugged, but still he couldn’t relax. “It’s my…you know…” he dropped his voice, “…programming. It won’t go away.”
Felix leaned forward. “I thought it would always be there. You have to get used to it. Otherwise you could let it ruin a perfectly beautiful—”
PING!
The noise cut off the end of Felix’s sentence. At that moment, the umbrella that sat in the centre of their table wheeled off its pole.
Felix let out a laugh, half from amusement and half from shock. Jimmy found nothing to be amused about. The umbrella crashed down in front of him. It passed a centimetre from his face. He rocked back in his chair, startled. The spokes of the umbrella dug into the table like darts on a dartboard. The ends were unusually sharp. The umbrella came to rest on its side, thematerial sticking up from the table between Jimmy and Felix.
Jimmy leaned forward to regain his balance, but he couldn’t. The back leg of his chair snapped clean off and he clattered on to his back. Then—
PING!
The umbrella from the next table careered downwards. Jimmy watched as its points glinted in the sun. They were heading straight for his face. At the last instant, he rolled out of the way. The spokes of the
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